Tag: neuroses

2255: Things I Feel Irrationally Weird About Saying Out Loud

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Number 9,752 in my List of Things That I Don’t Quite Understand About Myself is the fact that there are some things I feel irrationally weird about saying out loud.

Normal things, to be clear; the sort of things that regular people probably happily say out loud without a second though. And yet I always feel peculiar whenever I’m put in a situation where I might have to say one of them, and will often do everything I can to avoid saying the thing in question.

Here is a non-exhaustive list.

  • My own name. I’ve felt awkward about saying my name — particularly my full, non-abbreviated name — ever since I was little. I find it hard to pin down exactly why this is or what set me off thinking this way in the first place, but I have a feeling it has something to do with how much I disliked my speaking voice when I was growing up; I used to absolutely hate hearing recordings of myself, both before and after my voice broke, because I really didn’t like my accent and the way I pronounced things. I actually have reasonably good diction for the most part; when I was little — and to an extent even now — I worried that I sounded “too posh”, and the name “Peter” is a name that it is very difficult to make sound cool when you sound even the slightest bit posh. As such, I have gravitated towards “Pete” ever since, but still avoid saying it out loud whenever possible.
  • Other people’s names. I know lots of people on first-name terms. I hate calling any of them by name. Unlike my hang-ups about my own name, this is nothing to do with not liking their names — it’s a peculiar reaction I have where I feel that someone’s name has significant power and meaning to a person, and that using it in a carefree manner to attract their attention or address something to them is somehow insulting. This is, of course, complete nonsense, since we rely on our names to identify ourselves to one another. I feel this one may be something to do with my own reaction to my own name: perhaps I’m subconsciously worrying that other people don’t like hearing or saying their own name too.
  • Tummy/belly. Stomach. Always stomach. My stomach hurts. I have a stomachache. Never, ever, ever I have a tummyache or a bellyache. Why? My reaction to these words is that they are somehow “childish” and not something an adult should be saying. Once again, this is nonsense, of course, but I still just can’t bring myself to say them.
  • Variations on “goodbye”. I hate saying goodbye. Not in the romantic “I hate goodbyes!” sense, but in the fact that I simply hate saying goodbye, bye-bye, see you later, see you round, ta-ta for now, bye. I honestly don’t know where this one has come from because saying “goodbye” is a fundamental part of human interaction: it’s a means of demonstrating that your time with someone else has now ended, and that you are going to go elsewhere and/or speak to someone else. Perhaps I think it’s “rude” somehow — that I always think the other person I’m speaking to should be the one to terminate the interaction? I don’t know, but what I do know is that it’s ruder to leave without saying goodbye, which I have been known to do on numerous occasions simply to avoid this hideous awkwardness.
  • Excuse me. “Excuse me” tends to go hand-in-hand with speaking to strangers, and I do not like speaking to strangers, particularly those I perceive to have more “power” than me in a particular situation. Which is, to be honest, most people most of the time. This one I kind of understand, but it’s still fairly irrational.
  • Toilet. I cringe every time I use the Americanism “bathroom” to mean “toilet”, but I still use it anyway, particularly when in an unfamiliar place or with unfamiliar people. “Do you have a bathroom I can use?” Of course you do, what sort of house would it be if you didn’t? Somehow I see framing the question in this manner as more polite than “Can I use your toilet?” — evidently my mind subconsciously converts “can I use your toilet?” to “can I get my penis out and spray urine into something in your house?” which results in feelings of shame.

I’m pretty sure there are more, but making this list is depressing me about my own lack of social skills. (Not really, but, well, that’s probably enough to be getting on with for now.) So let’s leave it there for now. I may well return to this topic if I think of some more!

#oneaday Day 137: Say My Name, Bitch

I have something of a — what — phobia? I’m not sure it’s that serious, but I have something of a thing about saying people’s names, for some inexplicable reason. It might be something to do with the fact that I never really liked my own name or the way my voice pronounced it when I was a kid (hence my habitual shortening of it to “Pete” everywhere in the world these days) or it might just be one of my many strange and inexplicable neuroses.

I can’t even pin down why I sometimes find it difficult to say the name of the person who is standing right in front of me and who, in most cases, I know quite well. Perhaps I worry I’ll mispronounce it (granted, it’s kind of hard to mispronounce most of the names of people I know, though I have no idea how to say the surnames “Ohle” or “Honea” to this day and worry if I ever meet the people in question face to face I’ll pick the wrong possibility and make a big tit of myself) or perhaps I just think that someone’s name is somehow a window on their soul, a piece of their person that is, well, personal.

I don’t mind people calling me by name, though, that’s the weird thing. And I’m aware it’s silly to feel odd about saying other people’s names — particularly if you’re calling out for someone. “Hey! You!” really doesn’t cut it in a room full of people — although to be honest, I’ve never really been one for calling out anyway, as I generally much prefer to just go over to the person in question and speak to them, as yelling just draws attention to 1) you and 2) the person you’re yelling at, who may not be grateful for the attention.

Of course, it’s easy to go the other way and start calling people by their name far too much. Then it gets a bit weird, people start raising their eyebrows and wondering why you’re “acting suspiciously”. Saying someone’s name too much is often seen as a sign of guilt, like you’re trying to avoid accidentally referring to the person as someone else, like an ex, or a hilariously deformed person you saw on TV that you can’t get out of your head while you look at your friend, however awful a person that makes you.

Maybe it, like so many socialisation things, is something you just need to practice a bit. It is, after all, one of the things about “growing up” — the moment when you stop calling adults “Steven’s mum” or “Mrs. Stevenson” and start calling them “Geoff”. (Steven’s mum’s parents didn’t like her much.) Perhaps there’s still some sort of residual hang-up in my mind about that, like so many things.

Ah well. One more to add to the list.